Perspective
by GLaDOSthePotato
Summary: Tris lives, people, Tris LIVES! Contains 4Tris, the Eleventh Doctor's antics, and chocolate milk. Divergent belongs to Veronica Roth, Doctor Who belongs to BBC, the plotline belongs to me, and I'm pretty sure that you belong to you.
1. Chapter 1: Angst & Chocolate Milk

Hey, mothercluckers, it's Ginny here. I've been mulling over this one for a while, so I figured that I might as well get it out of my system. Needless to say, this is my first fic, so the absence of flaming would be appreciated.

By the way, I am aware that there's been a new regeneration, but I'm just using Eleven/Chinny because he's adorable.

Ah, shut up, you were all thinking it.

**DISCLAIMER: **Divergent belongs to Veronica Roth, Doctor Who belongs to BBC, the story-line to this belongs to moi, the stack of Pringles next to the computer also belongs to me, and you belong to yourself. Thank you for your consideration and enjoy the story.

* * *

It had been eight years.

Eight years since the Bureau crumbled.

Eight years since the factions were snuffed out of existence.

And eight years since he lost her.

For Tobias Eaton, Beatrice Prior had been many things. A warrior. A comforter. A leader. His own. The first three titles had been taken from her in death, but the fourth remained, as it always would.

Four turned over the cap of the urn in is hands, running his calloused fingers along the rim as if he was running his fingers through her hair, allowing himself a moment to believe, in his heart, that Tris was still there. That she hadn't forced her way into the Weapons Lab. That she hadn't forced herself into that god-forsaken room, only for David to empty the barrel of his gun shooting her to death.

Tobias clenched his knuckles as he inadverdently imagined the satisfied look on the former Bureau leader's face as he watched her body hit the ground. Of course, that wasn't how the events had truly played out. Tris had succeeded in pressing the button before her heart stopped beating for good. If anything, David had been speechless with horror.

Tobias released his grip on the urn cap, allowing it to fall, hitting the granite countertop with a clack that somehow managed to echo around the second class apartment. It had been the only sound in the room for the last half hour; Johanna forced him to take a day off from work to give him a chance at relaxation, but when he took that chance, his guilt rejected it, and here he was, choking on his own angst and regret. The former members of Erudite had explained in detail that the bulk of the grieving process was over for him, but he doubted it nonetheless. Sure, he didn't see her on the insides of his eyelids anymore, but the memories weren't gone. The loss wasn't over.

With a heavy sigh, Tobias let his sock-clad feet drop from the bars adjoining the legs of his chair and let his legs carry him to the other side of the kitchen. He was met with a refridgerator from which he planned to retrieve a tall glass of what he knew as the world's best comfort food: chocolate milk. He opened the door, grabbed the jug, and shut the door in one deft movement, snatching a clouded blue glass off the edge of the sink and the bag of cocoa powder out of the pantry on his return trip to his chair. Already feeling his spirits lift, he tilted the bag enough to let the desired portion of powder trickle into the cup. He set it on the counter and unscrewed the cap of the milk jug, lifting it just over the cup before...

"GERONIMO!" A random, oddly accented voice hooted from the next floor up. Tobias jerked back from the table, luckily not spilling his cup, but still knocking the cocoa powder off of the table to cover the floor around his feet. "FOR F*CKS SAKE!" In his rage, he found himself storming over to the fire escape in a split-second plan to climb up so he could kick the perpetrator's sorry ass in person. He scrambled out the window and looked straight up, eyes flashing. "YOU'D BETTER HAVE A GOOD REASON FOR THAT, MOTHERFU-" He stopped short when he saw what he never would've expected: a man falling off the roof, a crazed, gleeful expression on his face.

His shadow blocked the sun for a millisecond as he soared over Tobias' head before he continued his descent, acting as if he was plummeting into a ball pit instead of a sidewalk. In another split-second decision, Tobias reached out, grabbing the mystery wacko's arm and yanking him out of the air and onto the platform area of the fire escape, where he landed fitfully on his rear.

The man looked up at him and blinked for a moment, then a wide grin spread across his face. He shot up to his feet and dusted himself off. "'Ello, I'm the Doctor." He shoved something cylindrical into his painfully old-school tweed jacket. "I'm looking for a certain Tobias Eaton. You wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you?"


	2. Chapter 2: In Which Tris Is Hormonal

Over the course of her life, Tris had developed a list of phrases to apply to what she considered everday situations. The big two were "This isn't real" and "It's just a simulation" for the moments when she was on the verge of going ballistic when under serum-induced simulations.

But here? There was no mistaking it. This was _real life_, as impossible as it seemed.

The last thing Beatrice Prior could remember was the sight of her mother's face as she felt her soul readily extracting itself from her limp body before everything went black. When she'd woken up, her memories all blurred together into a single, tension-ridden mess, and when terror quit stalling her thoughts, there was only one subject on her mind:

Tobias. Tobias, I need Tobias. Tobias...

When her emotions muted themselves, Tris took advantage of the moment and analyzed her environment, but that in itself only brought on a new flood of apprehension.

She was in a chair that reminded her all to well of the one Jeanine's lackeys had forced her into when she'd been at Erudite headquarters, but the design seemed more focused on comfort than efficiency; there were cushions instead of iron plates, and the cuffs fastening her down were padded on the inside as well, as if to offer some extra element of reassurance. On a subconscious level, it was working, until Tris realized that she couldn't move her arms or legs. She tried to ignore that and visually investigate the area.

Looking up from the hair, Tris saw a room not unlike the one where she took her aptitude test. To her direct right was a smallish table with a cluster of little, empty, colored bottles, some sitting dejectedly on their sides, others spread around the floor. There were a few tiny piles of broken glass at random intervals around the table, and Tris assumed they were once some of the more fragile bottles. She couldn't help but wonder what had been inside them, but it was clear why the substances were gone; the wastebasket welded to the table was filled to the brim with used syringes.

No matter where she went, needles or other pointy things seemed to follow.

Tris moved her focus back to her current paralysis. With her luck, the serum probably wouldn't wear off for another few hours at the least, so she did what any mature 16-year old girl would do: swear loudly for hours on end.

* * *

Soooooo here's Chapter 2. I know it's short, but I figured I might as well give some explanation on Tris's whereabouts.

Flames will be used to burn down what's left of the Bureau.


	3. Chapter 3: Tobias VS Doors

Tobias clasped his hands together and flopped down on the couch as he did a mental double-take of the probably regrettable actions that had taken place over the past fifteen minutes.

In the exact same second that he'd processed that the Doctor was looking for him, he'd instinctively disabled him with a punch to the throat. Within a few moments, the Time Lord was hanging by his ankles from the ceiling fan in the living room, and as far as Tobias knew, he was out cold.

Tobias glanced out the window, redirecting his attention to the outside world. It had been high noon when the Doctor made his appearance, and the sun had barely moved from its post in the overcast sky. The streets below were speckled with commuters going to or returning to work from their lunch breaks. Naturally, the former Candore, Erudite, Amity, and etc. had formed smallish cliques of their respective factions, but without the rivalries formed by the "faction before blood" mentality, everyone was getting along in a relatively peaceful manner.

The Doctor clearly wasn't going anywhere, so Tobias did a bit of investigating. If the apparently half-sane Doctor had found a good reason to jump off of the roof (other than suicide; he seemed perfectly happy about being saved), then there had to be something to keep him from staying where he was or just taking the stairs. And if the tattered state of his clothes was any indicator, whatever he was avoiding was worth running from.

Locking every entrance to the apartment behind him, Tobias reluctantly began the climb up to the roof by way of the fire escape, refusing the urge to look down. In all honesty, the Doctor's appearance had rattled him, and it didn't help that the fire escape was around 80 feet off the ground. But there wasn't much distance to cover, and he was on the roof before he could start imagining all the different shapes his innards could've formed on the sidewalk below.

In Tobias' opinion there was nothing out of the ordinary. The towering central ventilation equipment was delapidated but operational, and the sound of it running (along with the typical wind) was all that there was to hear. He crossed his arms and glanced warily across the blacktop. There was nothing else out here but the entrance to the stairway. He walked past the ventilation crap to the door and attempted to turn the knob, but it stayed stubbornly in place. Tobias let out a short, pouty sigh of dissapproval and was about to turn on his heel to go back down the fire escape when he saw a fresh sticky note just above the doorknob. He actually facepalmed for not noticing it before. Figuring that it might offer some explanation for the door, he scanned over it.

_To anyone reading this,_

_If you intend to go down this stairwell and feel like living another day,_

Oooooh. A death threat. This would be interesting.

_it would behoove you to turn around and find another way to wherever it is you're trying to go. If you don't mind, please ignore the blue box right over there, it's none of your business and most certainly won't be of any help to you._

_John Smith_

Well this wasn't getting anywhere. And there was no one named John, Smith, or both living in or maintaining the building._  
_

Tobias tried the door again, jerking the knob erratically, but all that did was make his arms hurt after awhile.

He frowned. There was no way to get the door open without breaking something in the process, and whatever was in the staircase wasn't worth whatever the fine would be for property damage.

He once again turned on his heel and went for the fire escape.

And he would've made it, too.

Tobias shook his head and chuckled. The Doctor was probably just some homeless guy, judging by his clothes, that found a bottle of cheap alcohol in the garbage. Since he was so deep in thought, however, Tobias didn't notice the foreign object into which he oh-so-gracefully found himself slamming his face.

The impact knocked him back a bit, and he rubbed his nose for a moment, as it had been the most drastically injured part of his face.

He couldn't help but let out a quick "What the hell?!" as he scanned what appeared to be a phone box, according to the bold label at the top of the door.

* * *

Sorry for the late upload, my dear peasants, I had a major writer's block that, believe me, was an equally major pain in the ass. But now Chapter 3 is here, which in my opinion is cause for celebration in the form of a shout-out to my 8 current watchers: **27bubblycats, Becney, CheshireZeri, Dark Meow Meow Kitten of Doom, clarasglassballoon, Helensdragon, storyturtle, **and** taymims04**.

And remember, kids, reviews make you sexy!


End file.
